


d'you suppose you've ever been in love?

by alrightevanns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunken Flirting, Established Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, F/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Minor Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, One Shot, POV Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter Friendship, Short One Shot, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, jily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:02:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30064980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alrightevanns/pseuds/alrightevanns
Summary: In which Lily Evans asks James Potter a question.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, James/Lily
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	d'you suppose you've ever been in love?

She wasn’t quite sure how the two of them ended up here; firewhiskey in hand, drunken friends passed out behind them, sitting on a windowsill that would be a seemingly bad idea if they were sober. 

Well, _more_ sober, than Lily currently was. She supposed she should feel bad about indirectly lying about her state of drunkenness, but she didn’t tell him outright that she was drunk, so it shouldn’t count. 

Buzzed, tipsy even, but not drunk. Not like James, who she hoped was definitely, completely inebriated.

Maybe she didn’t tell him so she could ask questions like, “So, James Fleamont Potter,” he shot her a half-hearted glare, “d’you suppose you’ve ever been in love?”

She wasn’t sure why she asked. She sure as hell wasn’t sure if she even wanted an answer, but lately she wanted to know everything there was to know about James Potter. And if he remembered this conversation in the morning (doubtful, in the first place), then she had her excuse ready to go. 

She meant it to be an easy question, a simple yes or no, but he didn’t answer her. She was staring at him, almost unabashedly, something she had to stop herself from doing in front of other people these days. Yet, he didn’t seem to care. He merely took another swig of the bottle and kept facing the field in front of them. 

The stars were still twinkling, but it was brighter out than it had been before they sat down on the window sill. The sun was about to come up but going to sleep now seemed like she was going to miss out on something important. Or maybe that was an excuse, maybe she didn’t want to miss out on this side of James Potter that existed in front of her as if it was only for her. 

“I don’t know,” he said, finally. His words were slow, but not slurred, as they had been before. She raised her eyebrows at him, and he just shrugged. “Well, how do you know? I don’t know. I mean I thought I was. But I don’t know.” 

Why did that sting? Why did it hurt some small part of her inside that she had managed to shut up until now? 

“What d’you mean you don’t know? C’mon.” She paused for a second, tilting her head as if it would jog her memory. “There was…er…” She blinked rapidly. There was no way she forgot her name. “Oh, yes! Odessa Hatch.”

 _Maybe he just doesn’t want to tell you, have you considered that?_ She had, and then she realized how much it sounded like she cared about the answer. _That’s because you_ do _care._ And the sane part of her knew that, but the part hell-bent on denying it simply pretended as if it was a game of wanting to know more about her _friend._

He let out a laugh as if the mere concept of being in love with Odessa Hatch was incredulous. What a fucking laugh he had. 

“Nah, never her.” He said, “She was cute, but we both knew neither of us was in love.”

“I would hope not, seeing as though her name is _Odessa._ ”

“Well, what’s wrong with Odessa? It’s a perfectly lovely name.” He finally turned his face towards her, and she hoped he wouldn’t have. 

“If you’re into that sort of name, I suppose.”

“People are into names, now? I didn’t know that was a criteria on the Lily Evans list of people to fall in love with.”

She huffed dramatically, “Well, I wouldn’t fall in love with an _Odessa_ , now would I?”

“I don’t know why you’re talking about poor Odessa when you dated… Oh, what was his name?” He pretended to think, “Right, his name was _Norman.”_

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop her smile. “Well, then I guess we both dodged a bullet.”

“A what?” 

“Nothing. It’s just good, I guess, neither of us fell in love with them then.” A pause, “But seriously, no one?”

He just blinked at her slowly. She hated that all she could think about was the curve of his jaw, and his neck, and the shadows surrounding him in the dim light of early morning. He was in the barest form of his quidditch uniform, and she had hoped this meant he would smell less… _James,_ but no, fate did not grant her any favours. Because despite the firewhiskey, and the quidditch match, and the hours of drunken dancing behaviour, not a single part of him was something she didn’t want to be around. 

“I just don’t _know_ , you know? How do you even know if you’re in love? I mean, I thought I was in love with you for years, but I guess… I’m just saying I don’t really know the difference.”

 _I thought I was in love with you for years, but_ … 

The ‘but’ shouldn’t have hurt, and she knows it’s not fair, but that small part of her that stung before got a little bit bigger. “I didn’t even think you liked me, let alone loved me.”

“What?” This time he turned his body to face her fully, and Lily realized _exactly_ how close they were to each other. A couple more inches and their noses would be touching. “I bloody drove Sirius mad with how much I wanted to impress you.” 

He looked so surprised, she let out a giggle. “I just… I guess I thought that you were doing it more to annoy Snape than to impress me.”

There was a silence, and something in the air felt like tension. Something that wasn’t there seconds ago. And a part of her was upset she brought him up, to ruin this perfect little moment. 

But she knew she wasn’t wrong. Not completely, at least. That’s what drove her the most insane; she felt like a joke every time he got up to one of his antics of attempting to win her over. She wouldn’t have been so mad or hostile, she thought, if it didn’t feel like someone was making fun of her just to piss off Snape. 

“I did,” he cleared his throat, “Want to piss off Snivellus, but I wanted to impress you before I ever wanted to annoy him.” She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him one bit, and he sighed. “You think I would’ve charmed every single one of the portraits you walked by to ask you to Hogsmeade third year if I just wanted to get on his nerves?” 

And suddenly, the tension was gone. This was what he did best, and she knew it. And a part of her admired it; his effortless diffusion of tension, no matter the circumstance. “You charmed them _all_?”

“Charmed, bribed, what’s the difference really?” 

She snorted. He grinned. 

God. She hated it. She hated that she loved it. 

She made herself smile back. 

He went to take another swig of the firewhiskey, but the bottle was now empty. Her heart was beating a little faster, and she realized it was because she didn’t want to stop talking to him, and if the bottle was done, then this conversation, this moment, might be over too. 

But he didn’t move to get up, and she didn’t either. They just sat there in silence, staring out the window. 

Eventually, he said, “It’s like, I have this idea of love, and then there’s what happens when I’m with someone… And they just don’t match up.”

She thought it over, and then replied, “Where’d you get the idea?”

“My parents, I suppose.” 

“Aw—”

“Shut up, will you?” He was smiling though, almost wistfully. “They were old when they had me, so they’d spent a lifetime together before I was in the picture, and I didn’t have anybody else at my home, so they were all I saw. And when I think I took that in before I got to realize that not everybody is in love like that.” He shook his head, “I should be very angry, you know, seeing as though they set me up for failure. It’s too much to live up to, and so I suppose I will have to remain a staggeringly handsome bachelor well into my old age.” 

“Well, of course, that _staggeringly handsome_ face cannot possibly be wasted on just one person. And your poor wife can’t be expected to fight all your rabid fans, now can she?”

“Why, Miss. Evans, was that a compliment?”

 _Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush._ Her face was already warm from the combination of the alcohol and being in _his_ proximity, that she hoped it couldn’t get any more red. “I was just using your words, Mr Potter, I didn’t say I believed them.” She bit her lip. _Where was this conversation going?_ The air seemed to have warmed up around them, and her heart was erring on the side of beating out of her chest. 

Instead, he just shook his head and smiled wryly. _God, what I would give to know what you’re thinking right now._ “Don’t worry, Lily, I’m well aware of your stance on my face.”

She opened her mouth to say something, quite literally anything else but wasn’t sure if she should agree with him or disagree with him. The subject of his looks has only increased in the last seven years, and though they had only recently become friends, she couldn’t even deny on their worst days that he was attractive. Agreeing with him meant that they would enter a zone that was a little dangerous, and a little too much to handle, and disagreeing with him meant that he could be disappointed. _Would he even care?_ He did seem effected, but perhaps, that was just wishful thinking. 

So she did what she did best, and quickly changed the subject, “So, what exactly are Mr. and Mrs. Potter like, then? Why do you think they set you up for failure?”

At that, his eyes seemed to light up, and she almost sighed in relief. He was still just drunk enough to not push her, thank god. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like—” He stopped speaking, and took a deep breath. “Y’know when you’re looking for something for a long time, and you’re desperately trying to find it, and then you walk into a room and suddenly it’s there, and it feels like everything is okay for a second.” He looked at her expectantly, and she nodded. “They were like that, _all the bloody time_. It’s like dad would be sitting there, and mum would walk into the room and no matter how upset he was, for just a second he would be calmer, better as soon as she was there.” 

She licked her lips, they felt dry all of a sudden. What does one even say to something like that? It was almost impossible to even think about that kind of love existing, _almost._ “I think I know what you mean.” She tilted her head back, away from him, to lean against the side of the window. 

“Your parents too?”

She shook her head, “No. My parents—I suppose they loved each other.” Her throat was dry now too, and this was so far beyond the category of drunken conversation, she was wholly doubting either of them were even slightly intoxicated. “No, I know they loved each other, but it was never like that. Maybe it was, once upon a time, before P-my sister and I were in the picture, but no. I was actually talking about Remus and Sirius.” 

This time, like before when she asked about his parents, he seemed to light up from the inside out. It was endearing how much he cared for them, and she adored seeing him this way. 

_Adored. She adored seeing him this way._ God, what a mess. She regretted ever bringing up this conversation, sitting here with him, asking the question. This was supposed to be easy, she wasn’t supposed to feel this way. She’s almost sure that if she ignored it entirely it would’ve gone away, but now it seemed too late. 

He even—clearly—mentioned how much he used to like her. In the past tense. And now the cosmic joke was that she probably felt the same way he did, once upon a time. And she could do absolutely nothing about it.

Except stare at him, and wonder. 

Wonder what his eyes looked up even closer than she was now. And wonder how his lips would feel against her own, whether he tasted like firewhiskey or something else entirely, and what those hands would feel like on her waist, what _her_ hand would feel like in his hair. She wondered if he even had a small idea of what he was doing to her, at this very moment. Wondered, for one delirious second, whether he could read minds. _What would you even think of me, James?_

“Sirius and Remus?” He asked. 

“Yeah, you know. I don’t think Remus has ever been calm in his entire life, honestly, but whenever Sirius walks in, I can see it. Something in him is just a little lighter.”

They were both quiet, again. The sun was slowly coming up, she could hear a bird chirping outside, and there were no more stars that were visible to her. 

Outwardly, she wasn’t sure if she was even giving off any signs of where her mind was, but on the inside, it was a raging storm. Butterflies, roller coasters, erratic heartbeat, anticipation for something that she knew was never going to happen. 

“I guess that’s the difference then,” She said, making herself look back at him. 

He was now doing the same as she was; leaning his head against the opposite side of the window sill, eyes nearly closed but still looking at her. “Hmm?”

“I remember how Remus was before they were like this. It’s like he couldn’t stop shaking when Sirius was around.”

He laughed, “I know, believe me. Sirius was exactly the same.” 

“And now, they’re around each other and they’re calm. So, I think, I figured it out.” She thought about the buzzing inside of her, the way every inch of her felt as if it was on fire. Annoyingly so, because he seemed not even a single bit phased by her. _And she wasn’t in love with him. Not yet, anyway._ And it would be in both of their best interests if it never happened at all. “When you finally stop feeling the chaos and the nerves,” the ones she could feel right now, down to her bones, “And the being afraid, and start feeling the ease I think that’s what being in love is like. I think it’s the peace that comes afterwards.” 

His eyes were closed now, but she knew he was still listening to her. “So, Lily you-refuse-to-tell-me-your-middle-name Evans,” she smiled, “d’you suppose you’ve ever been in love?”

“No, I suppose, I have not. Not like that. And you?”

“If feeling peace is being in love, I suppose I have.” This time, she didn’t press him for more. She was quite sure she didn’t want to know who he was talking about. They were too sober to pretend otherwise, to pretend that neither of them would remember the conversation, and she wasn’t sure she could play it off as unaffected any longer. She didn’t think she could sit there for a moment longer, not without blurting out something that would break whatever fragile bubble they had at that moment. 

The sun was finally up, and it seemed like it was time to go to bed. She wanted this time all to herself, and if her friends woke up then they would see right through her. “Shall we go to bed?” 

“You go on ahead, I’ll be there soon. I want to enjoy the calm for a minute.” She didn’t protest; she knew how loud it could get in the common room, as it would in just a few hours. 

“See you in a bit,” she replied to him and then turned to walk back to the girls' dormitory. She thought he said something as she was walking, but it must be the hopeful part of her. She kept walking.

***

As James sat there, sun on his face, he realized that this was perhaps the most calm he had felt in his entire life. It was inevitable, of course, that it was because of Lily Evans—despite his many assurances in recent history that it won’t be. And though his heart was a little broken because he had made it as obvious as he possibly could to her, and she still ignored it, he supposed he should be grateful. Because loving Lily Evans was much, _much_ easier than liking Lily Evans. 


End file.
